


Caged, Bruised and Broken

by river_soul, syntheticvision



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Breeding, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Kidnapping, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticvision/pseuds/syntheticvision
Summary: A lonely scientist who is currently working on trying to find a breakthrough with Erskine’s serum catches the eye of Steve and Bucky, who are looking for the perfect wife. They’ll make her love them, whether she wants to or not.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 48
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was co-written with @syntheticavenger, one of the most amazing writers I have ever had the privilege of working with.

Your fingers ache with the weight of the drink holder as you struggle to prop open the door with your elbow. A man in a suit rushes past you and the tray in your hand sways dangerously as your bag inches off your shoulders. He doesn’t even seem to notice you and he certainly doesn’t thank you as he continues on his way. The feeling of being invisible is something you’ve grown used to but it doesn’t sting any less when it happens. 

By the time you reach the labs, it’s already bustling with activity, not uncommon for the middle of the week as deadlines approach. The Science Division Head for the Avenger Initiative is a stickler for routine updates on the projects at the compound. It’s so different from the relaxed environment you’re used to in academia but you appreciate the larger budgets and lack of teaching responsibilities this job comes with. 

“Venti iced Americano with two pumps of vanilla,” you announce, placing the drink on your co-worker’s desk as she shoots you a thankful smile before returning to her laptop.

“Frankie, I have your Vanilla Latte with coconut milk,” you continue, eager fingers reaching out to clutch the beverage from your tray.

Quinn, one of your favorite interns, turns around in his chair as you hand him his drink.

“You know, you don’t have to do this for us,” Quinn reminds you, eyes closing as he inhales the scent of French roast. “But we appreciate it. We’re truly spoiled.”

“Yes, well,” you start awkwardly, always unsure what to say when people express their thanks. “Just don’t bring it into the labs or if you do, don’t let Dr. Jacoby see. I’m pretty sure he’s got EHS on speed dial.”

When you glance down at the empty tray you realize you’ve forgotten to order your own drink. You repress the urge to sigh audibly as you make your way to the questionable-looking coffee maker, eyeing the dark sludge at the bottom of the pot with distaste. No coffee for you today. A glance at your watch tells you there’s no time to run out for the coffee your forgot. It’s nearly time for Steve Rogers to stop by for his weekly blood draw.

When you return to the lab, it doesn’t escape your notice the area around your bench is more crowded than normal, people suddenly looking for elusive supplies or needing to conduct a last-minute experiment. You normally shoo them away before Steve arrives. You understand their interest. He’s handsome and a hero but you have work to do. 

Steve appears in your lab bay exactly on time, greeting you with a polite smile. He knows the drill by now and takes a seat on the stool near your bench before rolling up his sleeve to expose his left arm. You tie the rubber band around his thick bicep and have him clench and unclench his hand. He has good veins, thick and easy to find. A phlebotomist’s dream. You let your fingers trail over the corded muscles in his forearm under the guise of looking for a vein. His skin is warm and surprisingly soft. 

He doesn’t talk with you when he comes here but he isn’t unfriendly either. You know he thinks what you’re doing is hopeless. Others have tried and failed before you, but with unlimited funding from the Erskine foundation, the push to unlock the potential of the serum in Steve’s veins is strong. If it’s not you, it would be someone else.

The needle slides easily under his skin and when you glance up you’re surprised to find his attention focused on you and not the bustling lab. You never have the time to truly pay attention to his face when he comes for his weekly visits but this time, you can’t help but stare into his blue eyes for a moment before you look away. You clear your throat nervously, your breathing a little unsteady. 

“Everything okay, Doc?” he asks.

You nod your head quickly, shooting him a tight smile before returning your attention to the vial that’s filling quickly with his blood. You remove the rubber band and then the needle. You don’t bother with a band-aid or cotton swab. Steve clots quickly and you only need to wipe away the little bit of blood that’s gathered on his unblemished skin.

You open your mouth to thank him when the sound of a loud, angry voice makes both of you look up.

“You’re fired, you stupid piece of shit.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve shoot up, hands curling into a fist. Always a protector, always willing to go headfirst into battle.

You hurriedly set down the vial of blood, peeling your gloves off as you move out of the lab bay. Dr. Jacoby’s face is red and you can see a vein at his temple throb as he speaks.

“Any idiot knows you don’t bring a drink into the lab.”

“I’m sorry Doctor. It was a mistake. I forgot I was holding it.” The voice that squeaks out is one you know all too well. Quinn.

“You’d forget your head if you weren’t holding it too, huh?” the man asks with a sneer.

“Stop it.” Your voice is shrill, higher than you’d like but you never do well with confrontation. It’s something you’ve been working on with your therapist with varying degrees of success. 

“You can’t speak to him like that,” you tell Dr. Jacoby, drawing yourself up to your full height. The older scientist has several inches on you but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “It was an honest mistake and the drink is mostly empty." 

You give Quinn an encouraging smile, setting a hand on his shoulder. The look on his face is one of fear and it makes your stomach flip unpleasantly to see his normally sweet face so twisted up.

"If you weren’t so damn busy coddling your staff and interns you might actually get somewhere on your own project, _Doctor_ ,” Jacoby tells you, the venom in his voice making you step back into a warm, firm chest. You look up just as Steve settles his large hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“I’d watch your tone, son.” Steve’s voice is low and dangerous. A chitter of excitement passes through the men and women gathered around to watch. 

“Captain Rogers,” Jacoby says, clearly surprised to find Steve in your lab. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here today.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I think you owe the lady an apology.”

If you weren’t so nervous and anxious you might have laughed at the expression on Jacoby’s face. But as it is you’re struggling to control the tremble in your hands and calm your racing heart. Jacoby eyes the audience gathered around the four of you. He seems aware of the stares on him for the first time, the expectation of his apology hanging in the air.

Steve squeezes your shoulders reassuringly, dipping his head down close to your ear. “You’re alright sweetheart,” he says. “Did well standing up for the kid.”

You close your eyes, barely hearing Jacoby’s panicked apology or the squeak of his dress shoes as he makes a hasty exit from the lab.

–

The next few days that follow are relatively quiet, not a single sign of Jacoby as you continue your work. Quinn is already in better spirits and you know the drinks that continue to appear on your desk are from your thankful staff. No one has ever stood up to Jacoby before, but you expect his absence is more due to Steve’s dressing down than yours. 

When you get back from lunch you’re surprised to find Steve waiting with Bucky at your lab bench. You’d all but forgotten that you’d asked him for a blood sample. From Hydra’s records, you know Bucky’s serum isn’t the same as Steve’s but it could hold clues to how Hydra replicated it and help you do the same. 

“Your left arm, please,” you tell Bucky as you glove up and grab the tourniquet and needle you’ll need to draw blood.

“That might be kinda hard sweetheart,” he says, eyes twinkling with amusement when you turn around and realize your mistake.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Sergeant Barnes,” you say, so flustered you actually drop the needle in your hand. 

He retrieves it for you with an easy smile. 

“It’s a force of habit,“ you admit, your face hot with embarrassment. 

When you look up Steve is smiling at you, leaning casually against the bench with his arms crossed. Clearly, you haven’t upset them but you feel compelled to apologize again until Bucky grabs your wrist in a gentle grip. His metal fingers are cool against your skin.

"It’s okay, doll. Really. So long as you don’t run screaming at the sight of me you won’t offend me.”

Your heart clenches at his joke, a small concerned frown forming on your face before you can stop it. You heard the stories about him, everyone did but it hadn’t been his fault. 

“People can be so terrible sometimes,” you say softly, touching his shoulder with your free hand. “Don’t pay them any mind. You’re doing wonderful things for this world. You both are,” you say, catching Steve’s gaze.

When he gives you a small smile, your eyes drop back down to your task. You can’t get distracted. There’s work to do. You busy yourself with drawing Bucky’s blood as Steve and Bucky strike up a quiet conversation. You listen absently to them, your thoughts on the tests you need to run but at the sound of your name, you tilt your head to listen.

“You were right Stevie, she’s real sweet." 

You glance up, surprised to find them both looking at you. You’re not sure what to say in response to Bucky’s strange comment so you simply drop your gaze back down and grab another vial to get a second sample from Bucky. It’s taken a while to get him to even show up at the lab due to his schedule so you want to make sure you have enough samples in case another few weeks go by. When you glance up again you see they’re having some sort of strange, wordless conversation.

"All done,” you announce, trying to dispel the sense of discomfort that’s settled over you. “Thank you again. Both of you.”

“No,” Steve interjects with a stare that makes you uneasy. “Thank _you_.”

“Anytime, doll,” Bucky tells you with an easy grin.

You place the last of the vials in the container, intending to head back to run some tests when Bucky stands, stretching for a moment.

“Stevie and I were just about to get some coffee. Let us buy you one.”

“Oh, that’s kind but unnecessary,” you tell them.

“Nah, the way we hear it you’re always buying coffee for everyone else. Would it be so bad to let someone else take care of you?” He asks. 

“Come on,” Steve says, curling a firm hand around your bicep. 

You open your mouth to evade their offer but Steve’s grip leaves no room for a rebuttal.

“Just a little break. I’d like to hear about your plans for serum,“ he says, his easy expression at odds with the hand on your arm.

–

Monday morning finds Jacoby lingering outside your office when you arrive. The smirk on his face makes you sigh internally. Whatever’s made him so gleeful this morning can’t be good for you. 

"No coffee for the masses?” he asks innocently.

You ignore him and proceed into your office. You drop your bag and the stack of paperwork you brought home last night. “What do you want? I’m busy today."

"Oh, you’ll be plenty busy,” he agrees. “Whatever you said over your little coffee date impressed the Captain so much he’s asked for you to be set up in your own lab, offsite. Something about security issues.”

You blink in surprise.

"I told him he could have you. Quinn too since you’re hellbent on keeping the idiot. For now, it’ll just be you though. They want to vet everyone else you’ll be working with more thoroughly. You have two days to pack up everything you need.”

Beneath the thread of anxiety you feel at how quickly everything is moving there’s a sliver of joy. Your own lab? It’s been a dream of yours since you finished grad school but it’s also a lot of responsibility too. You push down the more negative emotions that threaten to rise up, focusing instead on the good ones like your therapist taught you. You’ve always struggled with change.

“I’ll get started today,” you tell Jacoby, your mind whirling with everything you need to do. 

The next two days pass quickly, Quinn and the other techs an invaluable help as everything gets packed aware carefully. You don’t finish taping up the last box until well after 9 pm. When you place the last box with the others you pause at the door to your office, looking into the lab beyond. A small part of you is going to miss this place and the people you’ve come to know but you’re excited about what the future holds.

You’re surprised to find Bucky and Steve waiting for you when you step into the empty hallway.

Normally the labs are buzzing with activity at all hours but it’s a holiday weekend coming up and you know most people have taken advantage of the Initiative’s generous vacation time to visit family. The idea of going home to visit your own family makes your heart clench painfully. You don’t have what most of your coworkers do. There are too many bad memories for you to try to sort through, too much grief to process to consider buying a ticket to see them.

“Good evening Captain. Sergeant.” You nod at each of them politely. 

“All packed up?” Steve asks. 

“Yes,” you tell him with a smile. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. Truly,” you tell him, surprised to find yourself a little teary. You haven’t seen either of them since Jacoby’s announcement two days ago and you still haven’t been able to process your gratitude.

“I’m always happy to support good people,” Steve tells you. 

“Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?”

"We thought we’d show you the lab. I know it’s late,” Steve says, cutting off your protest. “But I also know you’re probably chomping at the bit to see it.”

“I guess it would be ok,” you concede. 

“We’ll drive ya,” Bucky tells you, plucking your keys from you as Steve settles his hand on your lower back to urge you forward. The sensation of his fingers against your spine makes you uncomfortable, but you say nothing. You don’t want to be rude or have the chance at your own lab taken away because of your unfounded anxiety. 

When you arrive at the garage Steve heads for the driver’s side and Bucky opens the back door of the car. He surprises you by sliding into the backseat with you. His bulk forces you into the middle, the seat to your left blocked by a black duffel bag.

“Ready?” Steve asks, leaning over the front seat to look at Bucky.

“Maybe I should drive myself,” you tell them, protesting when Bucky leans over you to buckle you into your seat. It’s unsettling to have someone you barely know so close by. 

“No.”

You glance up at Steve’s tone, the soft expression on his face from before wiped clean. You don’t recognize the flinty look in his bright blue eyes. 

“I would like to get out,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, thready and fast.

“I said no.”

“It’ll go easier if you listen,” Bucky tells you so softly you jump at the sound of his voice. You’d nearly forgotten he was beside you with the way Steve commanded your attention.

“Don’t struggle. I don’t want to hurt you. Please,” Bucky implores.

It’s then you see the cloth in his hand and the sweet, nauseating smell of chloroform registers for the first time. You rear back but the seatbelt keeps you in place along with Steve’s painful grip on your neck that forces you to look at Bucky.

“No, no, no, please,” you beg him, as he presses the cloth over your nose and mouth. You struggle fitfully, legs thrashing out as Bucky gathers your wrists together in his metal hand. Fear makes you breathe deeper, inviting the cloyingly sweet taste into your lungs.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

The last thing you see before blackness swarms your vision is your terrified face reflected in Bucky’s grey-blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake in complete darkness.

Again.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in this room but you think it must be weeks. Without a clock or daylight to track the passing of days, time seems to stretch and condense at odd intervals. You understand now why people go mad in solitary confinement. Your only constant here is the once-daily visits from Steve who brings you water and fruit. As much as you dread them you’ve started to look forward to them too. It’s a break, however cruel, from the endless nothingness that surrounds you. 

Steve hasn’t spoken to you since the first day when he explained what that small kindness would cost you. You’d refused at first, expecting violence or force but he simply left you, alone and cold on the bare concrete floor for two days until hunger and thirst wore you down. Now, when you hear the creak of the door and near-silent footsteps you rise from the floor to your knees. Sometimes you think you can make out the vague shape of him in the dark, a monstrous outline that draws closer but you can’t be sure it’s not just a trick of your eyes.

“Please,” you beg, hoarse with thirst and hunger. Your manners are important to Steve, you learned that lesson after he’d struck you hard enough to send you to the floor.

Your only answer is the soft burr of his zipper before the heavy weight of the head of his cock pushes between your lips and past your teeth, your tongue sinking down to the bed of your mouth to allow the length all the way in. You hollow out your cheeks as you pull him deeper inside. Soon, it’s wet and messy, saliva pooling around your lips that act like a vice. It’s loud, the way it pushes down your throat as you gag, the column of your throat battered at the rhythm of the thrusts. 

“Stay put.”

Steve’s voice above you is strangled, his warm hand cradling your chin as the fingers press against your throat.

“I can feel it right there,” he purrs, tapping against your throat. “Taking it all like I’ve taught you.”

He begins to move again a moment later, his fingers caressing your neck as he works his way in and out of your mouth. When his thrusts start to get sloppy you know he’s close. With a low groan that makes your stomach roll, he halts his movement and you feel the way the smooth and heavy balls against your lower lip contract as warmth spills down your throat. You’ve had enough lessons to know that you need to swallow it all, your lungs fighting with your need to breathe as you swallow. Above you, Steve shudders in pleasure at the sensation of your mouth constricting against the tender head of his cock that he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

The breaths you take are full and deep as you sag, your head resting against Steve’s thigh. A firm piece of fruit is pressed against your swollen lips as your mouth hungrily accepts it. The sweetness bursts against your tongue as you chew slowly, grateful for something to eat. You accept each piece of fruit he provides you but it’s never enough to make you feel full, just ease the ache. A bottle of water is pressed to your lips next, a soft sigh escaping from your mouth as the cool fluid soothes your aching throat. You continue to drink hungrily, drops spilling around your parted lips as you empty the bottle. As you finish it, you exhale, happy to be granted a reprieve for the moment.

“Would you like a shower? The chance to sleep in a nice, warm bed?” Steve asks, his fingers stroking your cheek tenderly. 

At the mention of a bed, you almost want to cry.

“Yes, please,” you beg, voice thin and desperate. 

“I think you’re ready now. Ready to listen and be good,” he says, helping you stand on unsteady legs.

You don’t dare to move, afraid any wrong step might make him change his mind. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises before scooping you into his arms.

The light outside your tiny room is hazy and dim but it still hurts your eyes after so long in the darkness. You bury your face in Steve’s chest to shield your eyes. 

“I know,” Steve soothes, pressing a kiss to your temple despite the way you must smell after sitting in your own filth for so long. “Your eyes will adjust in a few minutes.”

He carries you up a flight of stairs from what you realize must be the basement and doesn’t stop until he reaches a large bathroom. He lets your body slide down the length of his until your bare feet touch the floor. Everything in the bathroom is modern and new and the large tub at the center of the room is full of clear, steaming water. He urges you towards it with a firm hand between your shoulder blades.

You stop just before you reach the tub and let Steve turn you around to face him. He’s smiling at you, his expression soft and open. He doesn’t look like the type of man that would keep you locked in a dark basement for weeks on end. He looks normal and handsome, even kind. Bile rises in your throat when you think about what he made you do. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Steve says, fingers falling to the front of your blouse. 

At the feel of his hands on your neck, you flinch, taking a step back. You know immediately you’ve made a mistake by the way Steve’s eyes darken. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, dropping your gaze to the floor. 

You let him strip you after that without protest and help you into the bathtub. The hot water stings your cold skin as he lowers your body into the tub. You watch silently as Steve rolls up his sleeves and lathers a washcloth before he begins to scrub your body clean with firm, even strokes. 

“H-how long?" you ask him, your voice the only sound in the room beside the splash of water and Steve’s even breathing. 

"How long what, sweetheart?" he asks, his fingers ghosting over your nipples as he works the washcloth down your chest and stomach.

"How long was I in the basement?"

"Three weeks," he tells you and the easy way he answers pulls a quiet sob from your throat. 

"It's a compliment," he tells you with a smile. "I only thought I’d need two to break you down. You were a strong woman."

The use of past tense is not lost on you. It should rally that stubborn sense of pride but all you feel now is tired and numb as you let Steve do what he wants. Eventually, you close your eyes and will away the sensation of his hands on your body as you concentrate on how the hot water soothes the ache in your bones and chases away the chill of the basement. For a brief moment you feel some sense of peace, but then Steve dips his hand between your thighs and you come back to yourself with a start. You grab his wrist, nails raking over his skin as you clamp your legs shut. 

“That was a mistake,” Steve tells you, anger twisting his features into something ugly.

Before you can react, his hand is on your throat and he forces you back, dunking your head underwater. You struggle and kick out, water sloshing over the tub as he holds you down and your lungs burn with lack of oxygen. He doesn’t let you up until you’re sure you’re going to pass out but when he does you sputter, gasping as you try to draw air into your lungs and expel the water. 

Steve says nothing when you glance up at him and the heavy weight of his silence makes you shrink in on yourself. Once you can speak without coughing you do, your whispered apology is barely audible. 

Steve makes a noise in his throat, something between an annoyed grunt and tone of agreement. He finishes washing you quickly after that, rinsing your body off with water cold enough to make your body shiver and your teeth chatter. You let him dry you off and dress you in a soft, cotton nightgown that barely reaches your knees. It’s black and thin, nothing like the thick leggings and t-shirt you normally sleep in. You let him brush your teeth and braid your wet hair without protest, staring at the white marble countertop with hollow eyes.

When Steve finishes he settles his hands on your shoulders. You flinch and look up, catching his eye in the mirror.

“One more thing before we go down to dinner,” Steve tells you, turning you around to face him.

You glance down at his belt and he laughs at you, low and mean.

“Not that sweetheart. I want you to keep our activities in the basement between us. You don’t want to break Bucky’s heart, do you?”

You nod your head in agreement, too afraid to say anything.

“Good,” he says, his features light and handsome again. “Now smile, Bucky’s excited to see you.”

\--

Steve guides you down a hall to a large kitchen. It looks like something out of a high-end magazine with marble countertops that are decorated in soft greys and whites. You wonder whose house this is and where you must be. The large bay windows in the kitchen only reflect the lights inside the house and the eerie blackness beyond. 

Bucky looks up when you enter, a bright smile on his face when he catches sight of you. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Good bath?"

When you don't answer immediately Steve's hand on your hips tightens.

"Yes, thank you," you tell him stiffly.

Dinner looks great Buck,” Steve says as he ushers you to the seat Bucky’s pulled out for you. 

You don’t react when Bucky dips his head to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand ghosting over your bare shoulder.

"Made your favorite,” Bucky says. “Chicken Alfredo with a salad.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, gaze darting to Steve. 

At the pleased, happy look on his face, you feel your body relax a fraction and you pick up your fork. The food looks mouth watering but the heavy, rich scent of the pasta makes your stomach roll. It’s been weeks since you’ve had anything substantial. As you push your food around your plate Steve and Bucky talk, normal conversation about work and upcoming missions. Steve seems content to ignore you, but you feel Bucky’s gaze on you now and again. 

“You don’t like the food?” Bucky asks. 

Your head snaps up in alarm, eyes darting to Steve.

“Think it’s too rich for her stomach Buck,” Steve tells him with an easy smile. “Try the bread,” Steve encourages, voice light despite the fact you know it’s a command. 

You take a bite of the soft bread, chewing carefully. It’s warm and bland but your stomach settles the more you eat. 

“Good girl,” Steve encourages. 

The mocking praise in his tone makes your hand curl, fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as you press down the sharp, unexpected rise of anger. 

“I’ll make sure breakfast is something light. We have all your favorite fruit. Maybe some oatmeal,” Bucky offers with a smile, his gaze earnest. “We’ll get you anything you want sweetheart.”

\--

“I’ll clean up, why don't you two start a movie?” Steve suggests.

“That sounds fun, what do you think, Doll?” Bucky asks. 

“Sounds great,” you tell Bucky, the words like glass in your mouth as you force yourself to smile at the hopeful expression on his face.

If he thinks your smile looks strained he doesn’t show it, reaching over to grab your hand and pull you from your chair. You trail behind him as he leads you further down the hall to a living room with an expansive leather sectional and large TV. Distantly, you can hear Steve in the kitchen, the sound of clinking plates and glasses that are soon replaced by music. It’s something soft and jazzy. 

“Bucky,” you say, drawing his attention away from where he’s loading a DVD into the player. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you glance fearfully behind you. “Please, let me go. Nothing has happened yet that can’t be undone yet. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Sweetheart,” he says with a little unhappy frown that makes the skin of your chest prickle with fear. “I know it’s hard to process right now, but this is how things are. Don’t ruin tonight by talking about leaving. You don’t want Steve to hear,” he warns, pulling your body towards his. 

He settles a hand on your hip and slides the other into your hair, cradling your skull in his large hand. 

“You belong with us, you’ll see that in time,” he tells you, bending down to brush a kiss across your lips. 

You expect him to pull away like at dinner but instead, he groans against your mouth, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back. He presses your body flush against his as he pushes his tongue past your lips and sweeps into your mouth. You stand stiff in his arms as the kiss grows more demanding. The hand he tightens in your hair reminds you so strongly of Steve and the basement that you push against his chest frantically. He relents then, his mouth pulling away from yours with a wet pop, eyes dazed. You can feel the press of his erection against your stomach. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, sounding giddy. “Got carried away.”

It is all you can do to blink at him in surprise when he pulls away from you to push play on the DVD. You raise a shaky hand to your lips as a sob bubbles up in your throat. 

“We can watch The Mummy,” Bucky tells you with a smile over his shoulder. “I know it’s your favorite when you’ve had a hard day.”

\--

You don’t pay attention to the movie, too hyper-aware of the men on either side of you. Curled up against Steve’s chest with your legs in Bucky’s lap, there’s not a single part of you that isn’t touching them. While Steve links your fingers with his, Bucky draws lazy patterns into your skin with his metal hand, the other drapes over your ankles. After so much time alone in the dark basement their touch is overwhelming, a strange parody of intimacy and safety that makes your skin crawl. Even as you long to pull away you don’t move, too afraid of being sent back downstairs. You understand now that Bucky, despite how sweetly he looks at you, won’t help. 

“Relax,” Steve whispers, his fingers stroking your thigh as you stare unseeing at the movie on the television. “Nothings going to happen right now. We want to give you a chance to adjust.” 

He pauses before chuckling but it’s a humorless sound that makes your stomach churn. 

“Well, Bucky wanted to. If it were up to me, you’d be on your back already.”

At Steve’s words something inside your chest cracks, like a damn breaking open that washes away the numbness that’s gathered under your skin. A hysterical sob bubbles up and at the sound Bucky shifts, his strong arms hauling you into his lap as he tries to soothe your cries with whispered words and promises that only make your cry harder. You thought you'd fall apart in the basement, cold and alone but it's not until right now, caged in by their bodies, that you truly understand - there's no escape.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next three days, a pattern develops. 

Steve wakes early for his run while Bucky spends the morning curled around you, his hands sweeping over your body in firm gentle strokes. It could almost be relaxing, a lazy day in bed being caressed so sweetly if you weren’t here against your will or afraid at any moment his touches could tip into something sexual. The urge to squirm away is overwhelming but you remain silent, lying quietly in his arms as you let him do what he pleases. You know better than to upset him now, even if Steve’s gone. 

You rise from the bed when Steve returns, water rushing through the pipes as he showers, and go to the kitchen to make breakfast. Steve made it clear after your first night what your responsibilities were. Humiliation and rage burns in your gut at being reduced to a simple housewife made to do laundry, clean, and cook. Steve can see it in your eyes, his little smirk goading you into saying something so he can punish you.

You know exactly what he's doing, how each time he disciplines you it pushes you into Bucky's waiting arms. You studied behavioral theory in graduate school, watched how easy it was to train the little mice to do what you wanted with the right motivation. You’re helpless to stop it even though you know it’s happening. It’s like drowning slowly, a terrifying sense of powerlessness that you can only surrender to. Already your body craves Bucky's warmth and the protective cage of his arms whenever Steve bends you over his lap or forces you to your knees.

In a few short weeks, these men have reduced you to no better than an animal in a cage, responding blindly to stimuli in a desperate attempt to please them. You're terrified to think of what you’ll become, of what they will make you.

\--

On the fourth morning, Steve wakes earlier than usual, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before leaning over you to capture Bucky’s mouth in a wet, messy one. He doesn’t return that night or the next. The relief of his absence is a physical one as you continue to play house with Bucky, doing what you can to keep him happy. On the third morning of Steve’s absence you wake to Bucky above you, your nightgown rucked up above your waist. 

“Shhh,” Bucky urges when you open your mouth to speak. “I wanna make you feel good, sweetheart.”

You jerk in his grasp but he captures your mouth in a desperate kiss as his fingers explore your cunt. He finds your bud easily, teasing it with long, firm strokes that have you gasping into his mouth, your hips canting towards his hand. He pulls away from your mouth with a wet pop, a dopey smile on his face.

“You’re so responsive,” he says with a smile. “God, I want to taste you.”

Bucky moves down your body to bury his face between your thighs, groaning against your thigh. You try to push him away but his metal hand grabs your wrist hard enough to make the bones ache. You gasp from the dual sensation of the pain in your hand and the pleasure he draws from you with his mouth. When you try to wiggle away from him he captures your wrist in each hand, pinning them to the bed beside your hips. Bucky is relentless in giving you pleasure, the smell of your arousal, and the wet sounds his mouth makes filling the room. 

“Please,” you beg, unsure if you’re asking him to stop or continue. 

You keen when he releases one of your wrists to slip two fingers inside you, curling them in a come hither gesture. Your whole body goes tight and hot as your orgasm rushes through your veins. A dark chuckle from your right makes your eyes snap open and you find Steve at the threshold of the bedroom, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. 

The urge to push Bucky away and cover yourself is strong but you know that would only anger him so you turn your head away, ashamed. It's all you can do to lay there and take the orgasms Bucky draws out of your body while Steve watches. When Bucky finally pulls away you’re trembling and oversensitive. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as the men share a kiss, Steve’s low groan making you shudder at the memory the sound dredges up. You close your eyes and try to will away what just happened.

“Sweet, huh?” Bucky asks Steve. 

You hate how excited he sounds. 

“Mmm,” Steve agrees, setting his heavy duffle bag on the floor with a thump. 

The bed creaks and groans as someone settles on the end of it. You flinch when two large, warm hands ghost up your legs, spreading them further apart. A finger drags through your wetness and you try to squirm away but a hand curls around your thigh, keeping you still. You open your eyes to find Steve kneeling between your knees, a hungry look on his face.

“No,” you moan.

“No?” he asks, eyes darkening. “You don’t say no to me,” he reminds you, diving between your thighs as Bucky comes to settle along your side. 

His metal arm rests across your stomach, holding you in place as Steve’s mouth all but devours you. You come with a howl moments later, your orgasm more painful than pleasurable.

“Bucky, Bucky please,” you beg, clawing at his arms, your eyes shiny with tears. “It hurts.”

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly but the other man either doesn’t hear or doesn’t listen, tongue lapping at your abused core. “Steve.”

You nearly sob with relief when Bucky grabs a fistful of Steve’s hair and lifts him off you. 

“She’s had enough. You can have her later, but she needs rest.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you whimper into Bucky’s chest, grateful when he pulls you into his arms.

“How about a bath?” he asks. “Maybe a movie. Steve can make us breakfast,” he soothes. 

When you look over your shoulder at Steve his face is red, the front of his pants tented. You know he’s going to make you pay for this later. Your knees already ache at the thought.

\--

After your bath, the rest of the day passes slowly, breakfast and lunch a quiet affair as Steve and Bucky talk about the mission he’s returned from. Steve ignores you. He pretends you’re not at the table and you know better than to address him. 

After lunch you and Bucky move into the living room to work quietly on the puzzle you started two days ago. Steve observes from the recliner, ostensibly reading through paperwork but you feel his eyes on you. Anxiety twists in your gut. When you glance up his finger rests along his cheek, hand curled over his mouth. He looks engrossed in his work but when his gaze meets yours, you see the fire in his eyes. 

Dinner is a casserole dish you know Steve favors. Bucky compliments your cooking but Steve says nothing, handing you the plate without looking away from his phone. After, Bucky picks a movie to watch, another one of your favorites that you’ll never be able to enjoy again. He settles you between him and Steve on the couch, his fingers falling to the nape of your neck. His touch is almost comforting, the light scratch of his nails lulling your body into a relaxed state. The movie is nearly half-way over and your eyes are growing heavy when you feel Steve’s hand settle on your bare thigh. You're alert instantly, body tense as you wait for a blow that doesn't come. He seems content to just touch you, his gaze focused on the movie as he chuckles at one of the jokes the actor’s tell on screen. After a few minutes, your shoulders drop and you let yourself lean back into the couch. 

You’re on the cusp of sleep when Steve leans over you to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Bucky’s lap.

"Been aching all day because of you," Steve tuts. “Thought you were clever playing on Bucky’s sympathy?” He asks. 

Beside you Bucky sighs, pulling his hand away from your neck as Steve urges you off the couch. He turns you to face him so you’re kneeling between his spread thighs. He strokes your jaw with his thumb before cupping the back of your head. You look up to Bucky with large, tearful eyes but he only smiles at you before turning his attention back to the screen. Steve’s hand tightens in your hair, drawing you towards him as his other hand frees his erection.

You don’t wait to be told what to do, grasping his thick length as you swallow him down in one go just like he prefers. The sound of him fucking your mouth fills the livingroom as the tv blares behind you. You close your eyes as Steve whispers filthy words of encouragement. It was almost better in the basement when you couldn’t see the way his beautiful face twists in pleasure. You feel it when he gets close, the desperate choked sound he makes, his ass leaving the couch with each thrust.

You know it’s not rational but you feel shame and humiliation settle in your stomach when you look up to see Bucky’s gaze on you. You don’t miss the way he palms his own erection, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Hungry for another cock, already?” Steve asks with a chuckle that turns into a moan when he bucks into your mouth harshly. 

You gag when he comes down your throat, the thick, salty taste of him enough to make your stomach roll. His hand at the back of your head keeps you from pulling away as he thrusts lazily in your mouth, making sure you take every drop. He releases you with a sigh, body sinking back into the couch as his head lulls to the side. He watches you wipe away the come and spit from your mouth with a smile.

"The mouth of yours, sweetheart," he praises. "It would make an angel weep."

Bile climbs in your throat at his words. 

“Come here, doll,” Bucky urges, pulling you towards him as you crawl between his legs. 

He surprises you by bending down and capturing your lips, his tongue seeking out the remnants of Steve in your mouth. He groans, low and wanting as you let yourself sink into the kiss and the tenderness he offers you. The soft shh of a zipper makes you jerk away, eyes darting up to meet the cool grey of Bucky’s. 

"I made you feel good this morning, didn't I?" He asks, his hand cupping the back of your head.

He doesn't push you forward or twist your hair like Steve does, but that doesn't make it any less worse. It's the illusion of choice. You don't understand how he can look so lovingly at you when just moments ago he watched you gag on his friend's cock. Your gaze darts to Steve but cool metal fingers on your chin direct you back to Bucky.

“Don’t worry about him,” he soothes, fingers stroking along your cheek softly. 

You rise on your knees, bending down to take his weeping cock into your mouth. He’s thicker than Steve and you struggle to take him all the way in, your jaw aching. Bucky doesn’t force your head down. He lets you set the pace and work him over in long, smooth strokes. The noises he makes above you send a strange tremor through your body and heat curls in your gut. 

“So good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, head thrown back, throat working down the sounds of his pleasure. “Taking me so good, such a sweet girl,” he encourages.

You hollow your cheeks and force yourself to take him deeper. Tears burn in your eyes. You want this to be over. 

The couch creaks, the sound of leather groaning is your only warning before you feel Steve settle along your back. Startled, you jump forward, nearly choking as it forces Bucky deeper into your throat. He swears above you, bucking into your mouth as you feel Steve’s fingers delve into your folds. You can’t hold back the moan that bubbles up when Steve works a finger inside you and thumbs your clit.

“Fuck, you’re drenched, sweetheart. You like swallowing Bucky like that?” he asks.

You can only groan in response as his fingers work you to orgasm humiliatingly fast. Bucky follows soon after, pulling back enough to flood your mouth with his spend. He pants above you, a blissed out expression on his face as your body slumps in Steve’s arms and you force yourself to swallow. 

“Did so good,” Steve whispers into your ear, hand gentle as he turns your head to face him.

The smile he gives you is a real one. You hate how it makes you feel good, how you crave that approval. His kiss is softer than any he’s given you before, languid and loving. His tongue strokes yours and he encourages you to explore his mouth as his hands rub down your sides. 

“Knew you could be a good girl with a little help. Make us happy,” he tells you, nosing along your hairline. “You love us, don’t you?” he asks.

“I do,” you lie, your throat constricting painfully around the words. 

“Tell Bucky,” Steve murmurs.

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Your voice cracks on the last word and you feel a small, vital part of yourself dissolve as you begin to cry. Neither man seems to notice. 

“Can’t wait until you’re swollen and round,” Bucky sighs as he slips off the couch to cage you between his body and Steve’s. 

It’s impossible to mistake his meaning when Steve’s hand strokes your soft stomach. The breath that dies in your throat seeps through your lips, your lungs refusing to work as their bodies press against you.

“Gonna fill you up again and again,” Steve promises as Bucky leans forward to kiss you. 

You fight against their hold, terrified and desperate. Steve is quick to subdue you, arms like a vice around your body. The scream that wants to come out is strangled by the tension that keeps you anchored to Steve.

“Don’t ruin this,” he commands but the angry tone of his voice isn’t enough to still you this time. 

You’re overwhelmed with panic and horrified now that you understand their true purpose in taking you. With your arms kept close, all you can do is shake your head, denial forming on your lips that you know will earn you another punishment. Tears roll down your cheeks at the thought of Steve's dark promise, your head moving away from Bucky as Steve grips the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“We’ll be together always. A happy family,” Bucky says, his lips warm against your brow.

“No,” you sob. 

“One that stays together," Steve adds. "Forever."


End file.
